Warriors of Fate
by MilesAmoris
Summary: I'm going to be honest. I don't know where this story is going. I'm not one of those writers who plan everything out before I start writing. I simply go with it. There isn't a lot to say about this story. So, without further ado, enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Okay. So this is a story that is very, very, loosely based upon the Mortal Instruments Series. However, I like to think that it is mostly original :) Please review! It makes me update faster! Thank you!**

Clary awoke to a knocking on her window. She looked up to see Ben standing outside her window, peering in. She blearily stood up and brushed her long, dark brown hair out of her face. Her head felt as if a dwarf was pounding her with a warhammer. She slowly stumbled over and pulled open the window.

"Hey, Ben. What's up?" She still wasn't fully awake and alive yet. Her eyes hadn't even adjusted to the light yet and her pupils were screaming.

"Are you alright? You look like you just got plowed over via monster truck."

"Yeah, I'm o.k. I just have a pounding headache."

Ben was only half in the window when he paused and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Well, you were supposed to meet me this morning at the Gorgon's Café. And I tried to call you last night, but I just got your voicemail."

"I'm sorry. I can't for the life of me remember what happened last night. It's all a blur. I—guess I was just really tired." Clary cut off abruptly, her face going blank.

_Blood. Blood everywhere. There was just so much blood. How could there be so much blood in one body? There was someone, a woman, bending over a body with a long hand-and-a-half sword in hand, her dark hair concealing her face, crying over the death of a man, whose face she couldn't see. She was wearing black leather armor stained with blood and gore. A baldric was slung over her back holding an immaculately polished black scabbard._

"_Please. Come back. Come back! I c-can't live without y-you." Her words came in gasping sobs. "Don't leave me! Y-You can't l-leave me! I need you." She brought the dead body to her in a last embrace. A man entered Clary's view, only his back was visible, walking in front of the woman weeping for her lost loved one. She looked up from the man's dead body and brought her eyes to the man in front of her. Her face was so ridden with grieve and the remnants of what appeared to be a large battle that she couldn't even make out the details of her face. "You." A snarl crept into he features. "What do you want? Haven't you taken enough from me?"_

"_You haven't completed Domine un Gokashna. It must be done. With the new threat, it is even more imperative that you complete it. There will be time for grieving when we leave this place." His voice was quiet but demanded respect; low and commanding. He moved his foot as if to take a step forward but then thought better of it. "Think not that I am devoid of sympathy. Remember that I, too, went through Domine un Gokashna and suffered much the same as you have. But, as I have said, your destiny cannot be stopped or left behind." He paused, unsure of himself. "I am sorry that this is your destiny. I would not wish this life on anyone. I did not ask for this and every day I wish I could go back to when my life was normal. But, sadly, it is not to be so."_

_The woman's posture softened. "I know." Tears began streaming out anew. "I just don't know what I'm going to do without him. He's- I just... can't."_

_The man moved to kneel next to her. He put his arm around her in a comforting embrace. "I know. I know. But the sands of time cannot be reversed." The man ran his fingers over the dead body's eyes. He started to chant. Though Clary didn't know the language she somehow understood what he was saying. Over and over he said, "Boreí i__̱__ psychí__̱__ sou na vreíte to ypóloipo pou axízete. Boreí na sas vrei anápaf__̱__si__̱__ sto exí__̱__s o__̱__s Polemistí__̱__ ti__̱__s Moíras. Boreí na tous daímones pou thi__̱__rév__̱__ontai sas afí__̱__sei se i__̱__sychía." May your soul find the rest that you deserve. May you find rest in the hereafter as a Warrior of Fate. May the demons that you hunted leave you in peace._

_The woman looked at him in gratitude. Clary got the feeling that this was a great sign of respect for this dead man. His voice soft and consoling he said, "Come on. Let's get out of here. I'll make sure that his family knows and gives him a funeral that he deserves."_

"Clary? Clary? CLARY! Snap out of it, Clary! Come on!" Ben was shaking her. Clary realized that she wasn't breathing and inhaled with a gasp. There were tears in her eyes. Ben, seeing that she had come out of it, stopped shaking her. He let out a huge sigh of relief followed by a look of concern and... foreboding? apprehension? "Clary. What's wrong? You went, like—catatonic for a whole minute."

"Yeah. I don't know what happened. I just saw this weird flash." Tears started trickling from her eyes again.

Ben brought her close and hugged her in a warm embrace. "Hey, it's okay, Clary. It wasn't real. Okay?" She put her head on his shoulder. After a minute, Ben said, "Hey. What do you say we keep that date at Gorgon's Café?"

Clary nodded. "Okay. I'll just get a quick shower."

"I'll have a Number Twelve, no onions; a Number 4 with large fries; Pepsi, no ice and a double fudge Sunday." Clary handed her menu to the waitress. She was wearing an apron with a severed gorgon's head laying next to a bloody, smoking sword. That was the restaurant's motif, as indicated by the name. It wasn't a very appetizing place, what with gorgon heads everywhere, but, once you got used to it, it was an awesome place to be with amazing food. Ben looked at her across the booth and raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked defensively. "I'm starving."

Ben turned to the waitress who was grinning at him. "I'll take a Number Seven; Pepsi, no ice." He handed his menu to the waitress. The waitress shot a nasty glare at Clary. As she walked back she kept glancing over her shoulder at Ben, trying to catch his eye so that she could just look away coyly again.

"She was trying to flirt with you."

Ben turned around to look at the waitress. The waitress grinned and hooked her long blonde hair behind her ear and turned back around, continuing to clean off the table. "Eh. She's not really my type."

"Oh, please. She's every guy's type. Blonde hair. Big green eyes. Long legs. Nice curves. Great butt. That's what you guys like, right?"

"Well, I suppose I'm the exception to that little stereotype of yours." Ben sat there for a second thinking about how that sounded. "Not that I'm gay," he said hurriedly.

Clary smiled. Ben always put a smile on her face. "Then what exactly is your type, if not her?"

Ben paused, looking into her eyes. He took a deep breath. _Time to tell her, I suppose..._

"Clarissa Malone?" Clary recognized that voice. That low, calm, commanding voice.

She remembered him saying to the woman, "_I am sorry that this is your destiny. I would not wish this life on anyone. I did not ask for this and every day I wish I could go back to when my life was normal. But, sadly, it is not to be so."_ It was the man from her… vision? premonition? Or whatever it was. It was the man who had taken everything from that woman. The man was wearing a black leather coat over a brown hooded sweatshirt, the hood over his head, hiding his face, and old dark jeans. To match his face he had a very powerful, commanding presence. "Yes, I'm Clarissa. You are?"

He handed her a small, black box. She saw that his hands were strong and calloused. She saw that they were the hands of a fighter. Then he left. Without another word.

"What was that about?" asked Ben. "What's in the box?"

Clary opened up the box. There was only a piece of paper. Written on it was:

_1803 Delnair Ave._

_719-528-3858_

"It's an address and a phone number. 1803 Delnair Ave. Do you recognize it?"

Ben seemed to be thinking. His eyes were unfocused, staring into space. Clary snapped in front of his eyes. "What? No. I have no idea where it is. What do you think I am? Google Maps? Gosh! I'm so used." He shook his head, mocking her. "This all feels a little too ominous for my taste."

She shrugged. "I suppose I should call first."

Alarm shot across Ben's face, then vanished. "I don't know. Maybe you should just leave it alone. That guy looked very… menacing." He took a sip of his Pepsi.

Clary stared at the paper. She glanced up at him. "I don't know. I think I've seen him before. To me he just looked sad... or defeated." She paused, thinking. "I don't know… maybe you're right."

He looked at her eyes for a moment. "You're going, aren't you?"

"Yep." She knew there was no use hiding her intent from Ben. He knew her better than anyone.

Ben sighed, exasperated, seeming resigned, even though he was accustomed to Clary's personality and actions. "Alright. I'm going with."

"You don't have to."

"Yes I do. Someone has to look after you." He winked at her.

She smiled. "Thanks, Ben."

The waitress came back with their food, accompanied by another waitress carrying the rest of Clary's food. "Is that all you need?" she asked, looking at only Ben.

"Yes, thank you."

She tore off the bill from her order book and quickly wrote something else on it. She smiled flirtatiously at Ben. He didn't even notice. He just said, "Thank you," again.

As soon as the waitress was out of earshot Clary started chortling. "Oh, my GOSH. She was _totally_ hitting on you. It was really quite embarrassing."

"You're imagining things Clary. Girls don't hit on me. I'm the 'friend'," he said, putting air quotes around "friend".

"Oh, come on, Ben. The girl who catches you will be very lucky. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to just be your best friend."

Ben looked at her shyly. He always felt shy when he was being praised. "Thanks. I feel really lucky, too." He was even shyer about complimenting and expressing feelings.

They both smiled in companionable silence.

"Alright," Clary said, "let's eat!"

She dug into her food.

Ben couldn't help but to laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

When Clary and Ben finished they headed to Ben's house. They would have gone to Clary's as they usually did, however she had forgotten her keys when they left. Plus, her mom had to work overtime quite often lately because of a merger that they were working on and she didn't like Clary to have company when she wasn't there, despite the fact that it was just Ben. She worked as a business consultant for Hewlett-Packard; the merger was with Elux who brought Essential Records with them. Her mom's ultimate goal was to create a DNA-based self-thinking super-computer for the armed forces.

When they got up to Ben's room he turned the radio to their favorite station. They always had the best music. Ben cranked up the volume. He had an amazing stereo, perfect for hard rock and super-bass. Clary immediately recognized what was playing; _Shadows_ by RED.

"OOO! THIS IS MY JAM!" She then commenced to dance like a spasming baboon. "BREAK IT DOWN!"

"Don't you mean Break ME Down?"

Clary chortled. "GOOD ONE! TURN IT UP!"

"WHAT?"

"TURN IT UP!" she yelled.

"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU! THE MUSIC'S TOO LOUD!" Ben ran over to turn down the music. "What did you say?"

"TURN IT UP!"

"OH!" He turned it all the way up to max and threw on the super-bass.

Clary saw a bright flash. _A large two-handed sword came at her from overhead, an overcut. She felt a sword in her hand. It was a hand-and-a-half sword with a leather wrapped hilt, a steel-club pommel for knocking out those you did not wish to kill. The blade was roughly three-and-a-half feet, perfectly balanced with the hilt. She didn't know how she knew these things, she simply did. The sword felt as if it was a part of her. As if she had wielded this weapon for her entire life. She brought her sword up with both hands to deflect the blow. She angled her sword so that his sword would slide off to her side, allowing her an opening at his side as he recovered. Recovering with a two-handed sword took more time and effort than that of a one-handed or hand-and-a-half sword such as hers. His sword connected with hers and she forced his blade to the ground. She took the opening. She brought her sword around to his left side, the side not protected by his arms. She felt her blade meet flesh. Then, before it did more than scratch, she stopped herself._

"_Good job! That is the first time that you have bested me without resorting to trickery. And with such a simple maneuver. I'm impressed."_

"_Thank you, Master." She cleaned the trickle of blood off of her blade and sheathed it._

"_You have come a long way since we first met. I am proud of you." He put his hand on her shoulder._Ben's hand was on her shoulder, shaking when she came out of her… trance—vision—thing. "Clary? Clary!"

She sat up and looked around at her surroundings, confused by what happened and why she was back in Ben's room.

"Clary? Are you okay? That's the second time that's happened today. Is there something wrong?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I just feel a little… light-headed." Ben put his arms around her and helped her up. "Hey, I think we should go to that place. Delnair Avenue."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. Carpe Diem, Ben!"

"Okay, Mr. Keating. Don't you want to call first? I'm guessing that number was on there for a reason."

"Sure. You can call while we walk. Let's go!"

Ben pulled out his phone as they started walking and dialed the number. "You memorized the number?" said Clary in amazement.

He looked sidelong at her. "You know I have a good memory." He waited for an answer. A few moments later there was a _click_ but no answer. "Hello?" Ben called. "I'm calling about that note you gave to us at the Gorgon's Head. We're a little confused on who you are and why you want us to meet you at 1803 Delnair Avenue."

A gruff voice sounded through the phone. "I gave that note to Clarissa. Put Clarissa on the line."

Ben handed the phone over to Clary. "Hello. This is Clary. Who is this?"

"Are you coming to 1804 Delnair Avenue?"

"Yes. I have some questions for you."

"Don't bring Ben."

"How do you know who Ben is?"

"I know much."

"Well if I can't bring Ben then I won't be coming."

Silence. "Very well." There was a _click_ and he was gone.

"I'm not so sure about this, Clary. Maybe we should just go home."

Clary sighed. She knew that she had to tell him. "Ben, I have to tell you something. I would have told you before but I was kind of afraid that you would write me off as insane."

Ben just stared. "Oookay?"

"You know when I passed out today? And how I had a blackout all last night?"

"You mean when I was scared to death and I just might have peed myself? Oh yeah, I totally forgot."

"Ben this is serious. That wasn't me passing out so much as me having a… a vision-thing." Clary just waited for Ben to say something. A shadow of emotion passed over his face. It was so fleeting she thought she was imagining it but she thought it looked like sadness, grief. "I'm not exactly sure what they are but they've happened before but not twice in one day. I think this man might have the answers. That man was in my visions. I can't just ignore this." She looked down at her shoes as she walked and kicked a rock.

"Soooo.. What? You're a psychic now? A prophet or something? That is so COOL! Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Clary stopped walking and just stared at him. "You're kidding, right? This was definitely not the way I thought you would take it. Are you sure you're not just freaking-out inside and this is some kind of defense mechanism?"

"Clary, if you really ARE a psychic that would be awesome! I guess we just have to go to this guy and find out. Let's go!" They started walking. "By the way, I would never write you off as insane."

Clary just looked at him, amazed that he could be so cool about this; amazed that this guy had been with her through everything. She didn't know what she had done to deserve this.

"We're here," said Ben. "1803 Delnair Avenue."

The place they were at was not at all what she expected. It was a huge, almost mansion-like, brick house. It had three stories with a balcony on each. Huge amounts of smoke were pouring out of a chimney. The windows were trimmed in white. The roof was flat with a garden on top that you could just barely see from the street. Leading up to the house was a marble walkway with beautiful exotic plants on either side. On the east side of the house there was an enormous window, almost taking up the entire wall, which overlooked a magnificent blue lake. It was the most amazing house she had ever seen.

Clary's mouth stood agape. She looked over at Ben and he was just looking at this palace as if it was the norm. "What is wrong with you, Ben? This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen!"

Brought out of his reverie he said, "Oh. I've, uh, seen this before."

"This is totally not what I expected." She just kept staring at the amazing sight before her. "Well…. We should probably go in." Clary started up the walkway. She couldn't believe that something this magnificent could have existed in her hometown and she never knew about it. The door was made of polished stone and had a knocker made of titanium in the shape of a contorted dragon. Clary grabbed the knocker and lightly tapped the stone door.

As they waited, Clary looked around at the porch they were standing on. It was made of beautiful gray brick and there was a porch swing in the center. The porch was covered with a huge pane of tinted glass. "This is like my dream house," she said in a daze.

She turned toward the door as she heard the knob turn. In the doorway stood the man from the Gorgon's Café. "I've been waiting a very long time for you, Clarissa." Clary just stood there confused. "Come in."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update!  
If you find any inconsistencies, please let me know!  
If you _don't_ find any inconsistencies, JUST REVIEW! Seriously, reviews motivate me to write. So if you want to see another chapter up soon… REVIEW!**

"Come in, Clarissa," he said opening the door, holding out his arm as a gesture for them to enter.

"Call me Clary." She stepped over the threshold. Ben sighed and shook his head at how careless and unconcerned with the threats of danger she was. But what choice did he have but to follow her? She was his best friend and he would go to the ends of the universe to protect her. He stepped over after her.

The man closed the door behind them. Inside was nothing like what Clary expected when she saw the outside. Everything was simple, basic, sparse. There were no signs of technology. The walls were made of stone. Not decorate, beautiful stone like marble; just plain gray rock. The stairs were unvarnished and looked to have been homemade, very finely built homemade stairs, but homemade all the same. There were no pictures, no paint, not even lights; only candles graced the wall. One thing that truly baffled her was that there was no glass wall. The wall where it should have been was covered in stone, as all the others were.

Then Clary looked to the left and through an arched doorway. She saw a flickering but constant red and yellow light coming from it. She took a few steps forward to see that the glow was emanating from what looked be a furnace. As in, a medieval forge furnace used for smelting and removing the impurities from the ores. She took another step forward to see an anvil sitting in front of the furnace and beside a barrel of water. Hanging from a handle on the bellows next to the furnace opening was a leather rope. A hammer and tongs rested on the anvil, along with a half-finished sword blade. The walls were decorated with various smithing tools but it was predominantly filled with weapons; weapons of all kinds. She saw a hand-and-a-half sword, a one-handed sword, a massive two-handed sword, a mace, a chain-mace, several daggers, a halberd, pike, lance, spear, and several others that even her dork/nerd/geek mind couldn't identify. That was only the small portion of the wall in what she assumed was a very large room.

Clary just stood there, gaping. _Well… that's slightly creepy,_ she thought. She turned to the man still standing by the door, whom she still knew absolutely nothing about. His eyes were a very light blue, like the lake she saw outside of the house. His brow was very wide, giving him a gruff, menacing appearance. He had red hair cut very short to his head, but not shaved. He had a full beard that matched his hair in color and length. He was wearing a heavy leather apron over a long sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows revealing huge, tanned forearms decorated with dozens of scars of every shape and size. Clary finally gathered herself enough to say, "Well, I have to say, it's not exactly the way I thought it would be when I saw the outside." She looked at his beard and hair. "Can I call you ginger?" she grinned.

"No," he said gruffly.

"Yeah, I didn't think so." She gestured at the forge. "Are you a blacksmith or something?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I assume, since you are here, that you wish to know _why_ I told you to come. Follow me."

He led them to the back of his house, if it really qualified as such. They came to what appeared to be a dead end but then Clary heard him whisper something that sounded something like "antidote", which made absolutely no sense, and an arched crack appeared that hadn't been there before. No sound of cracking stone, nothing dramatic. One second it was solid stone and the next there's a door. He pushed on the door and it opened smoothly. _ Woah. This keeps getting weirder, _she thought with apprehension.

The door led to a dark tunnel-like staircase made of stone. The man grabbed a torch hanging on a bracket on the wall. The moment he touched it, a yellow flame roared to life. Clary jumped back, wary and confused. She turned around to look at Ben to see that he didn't look the least bit alarmed. _What is going on? First, the outside of this house looks like something from a dream, then I come inside and it looks like a blacksmith monk lives here. Then he says "antidote" to a solid stone wall and a door appears. Now this? And on top of all that, Ben is acting like he's seen all this before!_

Ben put his hand on her shoulder and said, "We've come this far. We can't go back now."

"I suppose so." She slowly, cautiously, followed after him. As he walked down the stone stairs, the torches would spring to life when he got close. Although she was scared and creeped out by what was happening, Clary was never one to back out of what she had started.

After what felt like about a five-story descent, the man stopped and turned toward them. "_Fotia_," he whispered. A strange glint appeared in his eyes when he said that word and the torches around the room sprang to life.

Clary was dumbfounded. In another house she could have written off these displays as technology tricks. But here? She didn't know what to think. All she could say was, "Wha-?"

The room they had entered was huge, circular and, of course, stone. It appeared to be bigger than her entire house. It was immensely impressive. But more impressive than the size was that all of the walls were filled with shelves from floor to ceiling, which appeared to be about 40 feet, of ancient looking books and scrolls. There were several tables in the center, most with mountains of books stacked upon them.

The man looked at the confused and uneasy look on Clary's face. "I suppose you are wondering who I am?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Clary said in a daze.

"Sit with me and I'll tell you." They all walked to a beautifully crafted oak table and sat. The man laced his fingers and put his hands on the table. He sighed. "What is it you wish to know first?"

Clary looked into his eyes. His eyes possessed a wise, intelligent glint. "I think who you are would be a good place to start."

He nodded his head. "My name is Ian. I was born and raised in Boston until I was forced to leave. I never knew my father; he died before I was born. My mother raised me until I was eight when she got Fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva, a disease affecting connective tissue that, when damaged in the slightest, turns into bone. When she stopped being able to move on her own, it fell to me to take care of her. At the age of twelve, she died, leaving me alone. A few weeks later, my training began. I have no siblings or family left. After that, my life gets rather complicated."

"Training for what?" Clary felt even more confused now.

"That's better answered by telling you why I asked you here." He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "You have grown up in blissful ignorance of who you are. That is no longer possible."

"What do you mean, 'blissful ignorance of who you are'?"

"I mean that who you thought you were, is not who you are. Does that make sense?"

Clary looked at him like he was crazy. "Umm, no!"

"Okay, well let me put it this way." Ian seemed to be struggling for the right words. "Clarissa—"

"Clary," she corrected.

"Clary, there is no easy way to say this. However, before I say any more, I ask that you do not leave. It is very important that you hear what I have to say and listen with an open mind."

"Okay, well you've just succeeded in really freaking me out."

"I would be immensely concerned if you were not. Let me just start by saying that the truths that you believed, are not. Who you thought you are, you are not."

Clary sighed. "Ian, you better start giving me some straight answers."

He nodded. "Very well…. You are not human."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I feel SOOO BAD that it's been so long since last I updated my story. I've been very, very busy. Please forgive me!  
I hope that you do enjoy this chapter. You might disagree but this is my favorite chapter so far.  
REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW  
(Also, let me know of any typos/inconsistencies because there are sure to be some considering I barely remember what I wrote before now let alone where I was going with the story. Thanks!)**

Clary sat there in silence just staring at Ian. Then she started to laugh. At first it was just a short chuckle but then escalated to a hysterical, uncontrollable laughter. She was shortly grasping her stomach, gasping for breath. She finally gathered herself enough to say, "Oh my gosh. You had me going for a minute." Ian raised an eyebrow. Clary was still smiling. "Ian, don't tell me you're serious." Clary's smile disappeared and then she was yelling. "You're serious? You really believe that I'm not human? WHAT? Am I from Mars? Or maybe Pluto? Oh, WAIT! I forgot that's not a planet anymore! Oh, I KNOW! Maybe I'm from FREAKIN KRYPTON!"

Ian stopped her rant before she could start anew. "I never said you were from another planet. I simply said that you are not human."

Clary just gaped at him. "BECAUSE THAT IS SOOO MUCH BETTER!" Clary stood up and paced for a moment, combing her fingers through her hair. She stopped and looked at Ben who had said nothing. "Ben, tell him he's being absurd."

Ben just kept looking at his hands. His mind was searching frantically for a way out. Seeing no other way out he quickly whispered, "Ýpnos." Ben quickly jumped out of his chair and caught Clary before she hit the floor. In his desperation, he had, essentially, caused her to pass out, buying him more time. He turned on Ian.

"Take it easy on her!"

"I simply told her the truth. She asked me to spit it out. I did."

"She didn't know it would be something like that!"

Ian studied Ben for a moment then said, "Maybe you're right. It falls to you now to make her believe. She trusts you."

"How am I supposed to tell her that everything you said is true?"

"I do not know. This is just one of your trials at the beginning of hers."

"Dáskalos—"

Ian cut him off. "Enough. Now wake her."

Ben knelt down beside her and put his hands on either side of her face and murmured, "Ichni!"

Clary's eyes snapped open. She looked around her, trying to figure out where she was. Her eyes settled on Ben. "What happened?"

"It seems you passed out but you're okay now. Try to stand up. It may take a minute to get yourself back together."

Clary sat in her chair. "I'm fine. Did you tell him he's being stupid?"

Ben looked sidelong at Ian. He took a deep breath. "I can't really do that, Clary."

She studied his eyes for a moment, almost looking hurt, as if she knew what he was about to say. "Why not?"

"I can't do that because he's telling you the truth. You aren't human. Well, at least not… _entirely_ human."

"How do you know?"

He looked away from her eyes back down to his hands again. He let out a pent up breath. Without looking up he said, "I know because I am the same as him. I am the same as you."

A tear formed at the corner of Clary's eye, a tear of betrayal, almost breaking and dropping but she blinked it away. It appeared that she had resigned herself to listen; as if she knew what they were saying was true in her heart. "What am I, then?

He looked inter her eyes, feeling ashamed for having to make her feel this way. "You—We," he amended, "are something different," he smiled, "better; ancient. We were created thousands of years before Christ by—I'm sorry. I'm going out of order." He quickly gathered his thoughts. "Let me just say that all—most of the myths, legends and tales are true or have a grain of truth inside them. For instance, elves exist." He paused to let her take that piece of information in. She shifted in her chair, looking uncomfortable. He went on. "Vampires, werewolves, goblins, orcs, dragons, dwarves, fairies, wizards, witches, angels and demons all exist. We are a mixture of all of these. We are called _Polemistí__̱__ti__̱__s Moíras_, Warriors of Fate. We stand in the light but also the dark. We keep the peace between them. We are a force of nature and of magic. We are born to fight. We are born to learn. We are born to teach. We are born to lead. We are born warriors. Everything we do is for the good of the world. But we must be very careful in everything we do. One poorly-thought-through action can tip the precarious balance of good and evil inside of us and we become a nearly unstoppable force ravaging the earth. Being a _Polemistí__̱__ti__̱__s Moíras_ is not an easy thing, but it is our fate."

Clary shook her head. "No, this is impossible. We are _humans_!"

"Because we must live among humans, we appear as human. If we were to live among elves we could, if we chose to do so, change our appearance to match theirs. Of course, it takes training to do so. That is what Ian and I are here for; to train you to use your abilities to their fullest extent."

"I don't want to do this!" She stood up. "I like my life! I don't want this!"

Ben looked down, ashamed. Clary walked toward the door. Ian stood. "CLARY!" he boomed. "This is not a choice. Becoming a _Polemistí__̱__ti__̱__s Moíras_ will happen with or without us. If you do not agree to let us teach you then the Institute will come get and train you. Trust me. You do not want them to train you. Let us help you."

Clary crossed her arms. Tears were dripping off her cheek. She wiped them off with her palm and sniffed. She turned away and said in acceptance, "Whatever."

Ian smiled. "Very well. We will start tomorrow. Come to me at dawn."

"Fine," she said. She wouldn't have conceded but she knew they were telling her the truth. She knew because, at some point in their conversation, she realized that they were all talking in Greek; a language she had never studied. Yet she had spoken it as if it were English. They were telling the truth and she knew but she hated that she knew it. She walked up the stairs and out the door. She ran all the way home, tears dripping off of her cheeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Yes, it's been a year. No, I haven't forgotten. Sadly, nor do I have much time. This chapter is choppy and short but I wanted you all to know that I haven't forgotten. I'm still writing. I promise. Don't give up on me yet. **

Clary's feet pounded the pavement. She heard nothing but the sound of her feet hitting the sidewalk, her heart beating, and her rapid breathing. The tears had long fled her eyes. She didn't know how long she had been running and she didn't care. She was acutely aware of a pain in her side and a burning in her lungs and blisters on her feet. It felt good. She didn't have to worry about who she was, or what she was. She didn't have to think about anything. And she didn't have to worry about what would happen tomorrow.

Suddenly, she felt her mind escape, no longer in control of her body. _She was in a dungeon. She felt like she hadn't drank anything in years. She could feel dry, crusted blood on her forehead and mouth. Every breath she took felt like she was inhaling hot coals. What had been done to her? She looked like death. She felt like she wouldn't last another minute. She could feel her consciousness fading. Then she heard a scarping noise. There was a metal plate being shoved under her door with bread, cheese, and a glass of water. She didn't know if she could make it to the other side of the cell even for the promise of water. She slowly drug herself away from the wall. She finally made it to the other side where her nourishment waited. She took the cup in shaking hands and brought it to her lips. As she felt it sliding down her throat, she could feel her strength returning bit by bit. She quickly finished the plate, feeling better than she had five minutes ago. _

_The sound of a key turning the lock startled her. The door opened to a man in a cloak with his face hidden in shadow, much like Eli had appeared when she first met him. This figure entered the cell and closed the door behind him, very slowly. "Clarissa." The voice that came from the hood sent chills down her spine._

"_You!" she spat. _

"_Oh yes. Me." He drew back his hood to reveal his face. It was the most horrific face she'd ever seen. She'd hoped she'd never have to see it again. But there it was. The smile on his face made her want to die. In fact, she just might._

She woke up crying. There was blood trickling down her chin. She had busted her lip on the sidewalk when she'd fallen. She sat up and grabbed her knees and just sobbed. "Clary." It was Ben.

"Ben... What's happening to me?" her words came in racking sobs.

It broke Ben's heart.

He said nothing. He just sat down on the ground with her and put his arm around her. No words would help. He knew. He'd been through it before. He just let her cry, stroking her hair, letting the pain run its course. He would have given anything to have her never go through this. The worst part was that it never got better. It never, ever, went away.


End file.
